


Waxed Wood Floors

by AmazonX



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Curiosity, Drawing, F/M, Pubic Hair, hot monkey sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 22:10:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1242427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmazonX/pseuds/AmazonX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is trying to learn what is common practice for pubic grooming in the 21st century.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waxed Wood Floors

**Author's Note:**

> No joke, at a Doctor Who convention, an actress/guest asked me about my red hair, asking me if "the carpet matches the drapes?" And I told her, with witnesses (my beta, Emyrldlady), "Can't help you, waxed wood floors." And I was thinking, Steve must have taken life drawing classes, and seen some of the girls on the USO tours, what would he think of pubic practices nowadays?

Darcy walked into the common room, reviewing her email on her Stark phone before planning on sitting to watch a marathon of this season’s “Downton Abbey” when she heard a familiar sound: moaning. She’d just been in the kitchen to get a bottle of diet Coke and a bag of pretzels and wasn’t prepared to find Steve hunched over his laptop with two women vigorously writhing together on the screen.

“So, you like the lipstick lesbians, huh?” Darcy said, in a rare moment taking Steve by surprise.

“Shit! What?” he shouted, slamming the monitor down on the computer. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out somewhere?”

“Uh, it’s pouring rain outside and that will not be good on my hair. So I’m staying in for some English refinement. Why are you watching porn out here?” She put her food down on the coffee table and sat on the couch, arms folded over her breasts, which caused Steve to follow the movement and his gaze dipped momentarily. He looked back up at her smiling expectant face. “Well?” she asked, after a moment of silence.

“Um, I was waiting for Clint…actually. I wanted to talk to him.” Steve bit his lip and a tiny bit of color bloomed in his cheeks. He’d once told her, Clint and Natasha that most of the “blush” had been conditioned out of him between living in the orphanage, flop houses, boot camp and the battlefield in Europe. He could tell a dirty story with the best of them, and assured Darcy that his “virtue” had been sullied decades ago, but being caught watching lesbian porn in a public area probably would make everyone but Tony blush.

“He’s with Tasha at some stakeout thing. He’ll be gone all night. Tony’s in the workshop…”

“No!” Steve shouted, holding his hand out. “No, this isn’t something I want to talk to him about.”

“Well, do you have to talk to a man? I mean, I can help if you want.” Darcy looked at him openly, and she didn’t have a drop of sarcasm in her voice. Steve watched her for a moment, knowing her smirk would reveal any pretense. But no, she was serious, and wanted to help.

“Well, can we talk in private?” he asked.

“Your place or mine?” she asked.

“Ladies choice,” he said, with a wink.

“Come on, my couch is really comfy.”

Darcy led him to her suite two floors below and plopped on the aforementioned couch, twisting open the bottle of soda she’d brought with her. Steve had the closed laptop under his arm, bag of pretzels in his hand which he dropped on Darcy’s coffee table and set the computer down next to it. He didn’t sit right away, instead looking around Darcy’s lounge, wiping his palms on his pants.

Darcy watched him fidget for a few minutes before saying, “It’s not going to get easier the more you stall, so just out with it. I don’t judge.”

With a deep breath, Steve sat and looked into Darcy’s open face. “OK, so, I’ve been taking some art classes, like drop in classes because with our schedule, you know…”

“OK, yeah.”

“Well, I went to a life drawing class, which mean nude model. I’ve done this before, so no problem. I’m an art student, I was in the Army, human bodies aren’t embarrassing to me.”

“You’ve said.”

“OK, well, the model came out, young lady, and when she dropped her robe, she…she didn’t…have any pubic hair. And I actually asked her about it, after class. Well, she talked to me after I made perfectly clear I didn’t want to harass her. And she said most women did that. So…I started looking for this, and found pictures and then that film…and I mean, I just…is that true?”

“What? That most women wax their pubic hair? Well, I don’t know about all women, but a good portion do. Keep it all neat and clean.” Darcy was opening the bag of pretzels and not looking up at Steve, thinking he would probably blush again. But there’s always a first time for things.

“Do you wax your pubic hair?” he asked, matter-of-factly, turning towards her.

“Oh, well, not waxing per se…I…shave.” She was looking away. Steve sat back because maybe this was too personal. “I don’t want the pain of waxing.”

“So, the whole thing is shaved bare? Isn’t that itchy?” Steve asked, leaning in again, completely serious.

“Um,” Darcy paused to munch on a pretzel, “there’s a little landing strip there. Nothing special, but it’s enough, you know, for modesty. As if.”

“Landing strip? I don’t…”

“I should just show you,” Darcy said sarcastically, then snorted in laughter.

“Would you?” Steve asked. Darcy looked across at him, eyes wide with surprise.

“What? I…wait here.”

Darcy left the room, leaving Steve looking around her suite. It had the average Stark suite furniture, light woods, but the little knick knacks and pictures around, they reflected Darcy fully. She had a large stuffed toy from a film they saw together, and she absolutely loved the animated, buck-toothed snowman. Tony couldn’t resist buying her the 5-foot-tall plush toy, and dropping it on her napping form in the common room. Pepper shook her head, muttering something about giant stuffed animals.

Movement from behind him caused Steve to turn abruptly and Darcy padded out of her bedroom, minus her jeans, bulky sweater and fluffy boots. She wore a satin, light blue robe that ended at her knees, and her hair was out of its usual messy bun to flow down her shoulders in a riot of curls.

“Ok, so, here you go,” Darcy said quickly, then parted the sides of the robe to reveal her perfectly manicured mound, previously noted landing strip dark against her pale, creamy skin.

“Whoa, that’s a landing strip?” Steve asked, looking, and reaching out to touch her, without thinking.

Darcy closed the robe and took a step back. “Hey, it costs more to touch, Bro,” she said, smiling nervously.

“Huh?” Steve asked, looking up.

“Bad joke, sorry. So, OK, we done here?” she asked.

“Well, I…can I draw you?” he asked, looking up at Darcy’s quickly reddening face as she stood before him. He still sat on her couch.

“I…yeah, OK, whatever. I need a drink first.”

Darcy went to her kitchenette and pulled the bottle of vodka from her freezer. She poured a small amount into a glass that looked like it was left over from breakfast, with some orange juice pulp in it, and threw the measure down her throat. She shivered and let out a whoop as the syrupy liquid chilled and burned her throat at the same time. She poured one more and waited a moment, before pouring that down as well. Steve just watched her from his seat on the couch, waiting until she said, “Let’s do this.”

“Um, I need my pencils and…”

“Your room? Fine.”

Darcy rolled her eyes and followed Steve to his room. He turned back to her several times, thanking her for allowing him to draw her, to look at her. When they got into his suite, he went about collecting his large sketching pad and an assortment of pencils that he used, with his other tools for carving the points and correction, all the while babbling about his previous art experience.

“You know, a couple of girls on the USO tour let me draw them. I think they thought I meant something else, but I really did draw them.”

“Did you bang them?” she asked, from behind him.

“Um…a gentleman doesn’t discuss those kinds of things with a lady.”

He heard a snort from his guest. “That would be applicable if I was a lady.”

Steve turned to argue the point, but Darcy had lain across his couch, sans robe, lounging like a movie heroine. “Oh…I…oh…” was all Steve could vocalize at that moment.

“If only I had an egg-sized sapphire necklace.”

Darcy smiled sweetly, not showing teeth, but letting the smile twinkle in her eyes. Steve moved instantly to the chair opposite her and his right hand began moving quickly across the page. His face moved back and forth from her to the page before him, and after a while, he had a sketch he was proud of. He held it up for Darcy, for approval.

Darcy looked at the picture he held and was amazed. She’d seen pictures of herself a lot, since she loved to ham it up for photos. Her mother had marveled that she never took a bad picture, and even Darcy had to admit, the camera loved her. But it didn’t show her how it felt. A camera mirrored the truth, in two dimensions, but the sketch before her showed her how Steve felt, accenting her curves and giving her legs an elegant slope that she didn’t know existed.

“Oh my God, Steve…I don’t look like that, do I?” she asked. Darcy stood from the couch, forgetting she was nude and took the sketch pad from his hands. She looked at the swoops of pencil, the deep lines and careful shading from fingers rubbed against the cottony grain of the paper. He accented her breasts with hard nipples poking up almost out of the drawing. Darcy hadn’t realized her nipples were hard. 

Then she heard the breathing. She looked up at Steve and saw the flush of his cheeks and the press of his lips together. He was trying to control his breathing through his nose, but it didn’t seem like he was doing a good job of it. The heat rolling off his body hit her, with his musky male scent and a wave of passion surged through Darcy. Before she knew it, she was caught up in Steve’s arms, drawing forgotten on the table and they were kissing, hard and frenzied. It had been a while since she’d dated anyone worth sleeping with, but she knew this was a man worth making love to without even having a first date. The fact that she’d been crushing on him for the last couple of months wasn’t lost on her either.

They made their clumsy way to his bedroom, and she took a moment to look around and take in the décor. It looked like she thought Steve would do it, shades of blue from sky to sapphire, with a heavy comforter on the bed. Darcy looked up at Steve, whose brow had furrowed in confusion.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked her. “I’m sorry if I’m being too forward,” he admitted, trying to take a step back, but Darcy held on around his neck with surprising strength.

“I’m naked, that should tip you off,” she said, then pulled his mouth back down to her. Steve turned them to sit on the bed and pull her into his lap. His touch traveled over her body, down her back to her hips, squeezing the flesh there and then around to her bottom to cup the cheeks with surprisingly soft hands. In the back of Darcy’s head she remembered his hands were covered in pencil dust, but she didn’t really care. What she did care about was getting Steve’s clothes off and finding out if the rest of his skin was as soft as his hands.

They spent the afternoon in bed together, kissing, licking and touching each other’s everything. Steve impressed Darcy with his impossibly short refractory period, which put even her awesome recovery time and ability to have multiple orgasms, to the test. Steve was impressed with Darcy’s lack of gag reflexes and her trick of putting a condom on with her mouth.

When the sun was finally setting, Darcy lay across Steve’s chest, his arms draped around her, and she stroking his bicep softly.

“Wow, that was something,” she said.

“No sassy quip for me?” Steve asked. “I expected better from you.”

Darcy smiled up at him. “Yeah, well, I’m kinda blown away here. And stop,” she said, placing a finger over his mouth as he was about to say something. “No fellatio jokes.”

Steve squeezed her a little tighter. “I’m glad I impressed you. Just one question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why do they call it a landing strip?”

“Wait until I show you pictures of Chaplin’s mustache!”


End file.
